Untouched
by FantasticallyFanatical
Summary: Amy/Eleven. Un-beta'd one-shot. They share a kiss, but is a kiss always a kiss?


A/N: A kiss that's not quite a kiss. Amy/Eleven, with Rory if you squint. Un-beta'd but no spoilers (I think.) Please read and review!

* * *

Her hand grazes over his and he becomes alert, too alert. She doesn't seem to have noticed but he swears she has, she's just hiding it well. Because they have to hide it, for Rory, for Amy, for Rose. His stomach twitches and he mentally berates himself for it, repeating his mantra of _this cannot happen, this cannot happen. _He asks about Rory, she talks about herself; he's learning things he shouldn't know, about their first kiss and how Rory dribbled. Her voice is lulling him near to the edge, an edge that should never be surpassed. But she knows, she knows what's happened and she is, first and foremost, Amy Pond. So of course she's going to take full advantage of the situation.

"I've lost Rory," she informs him, standing directly in front of him, her head just brushing his chin. His eyes shut involuntarily and he sighs exasperated; someone's going to see them. In the room with them stand over one hundred guests to the Queen's 40th birthday; this is not the place or the time, particularly now the socialising has stopped and the speeches have begun. If he had his way, it would never be the time. Instead he ponders how one could lose an entire grown man, but Rory's not the most exceptional man to ever grace the Earth (he should know, he's seen both the start and the end of the planet.) But then he's thoughts dissolve as he becomes all too aware of the fiery female whose back is gently rubbing against his chest as she applauds Her Majesty, purposefully avoiding any substantial contact because she wants _him _to make the first move. And he does.

An arm slips around her waist and he pulls her flush to him, subtly pulling her from the room. She lets her head slip into the crook between his head and his neck and her red hair swamps him. She's teasing him and they both know it.

Next thing he knows, she's got him hard up against the wall. His head hits it hard and his back, now sticky from lust and sweat and desire, sticks to the cool exterior welcoming the freshness. Her face mirrors his as their noses brush for the smallest of seconds and it's wrong, it's so wrong because any one of those guests could come out and see them and there is nothing he can do about it. Her knee nudges his thighs apart gently, her own thigh invading places he'd rather keep private. She runs a hand through his hair and brings her mouth to his ear, whispering something inaudible and then softly dragging her teeth down the lobe. His stomach jolts this time and he pushes her away, only she pulls him back and somehow they've reversed and she's against the wall, him only inches away. She knows that it's only a matter of time before he gives in because one, she knows her power and no man has ever resisted for long and two, well, that would be telling.

He keeps his body weight tying her down and rests his forehead against the wall, to the right side of her head. His ear brushes past hers and as he hears just the tiniest gasp from her mouth, all resolution is lost to the wind. He turns his head to the left just slightly and places a soft kiss on the edge of her jaw line, just beneath her ear. She shivers and he feels it and carries on, tracing a trail all the way to her chin, her cheek_. _And then, without warning, his lips claims hers as their heads bash together like childish teenagers. Their teeth clink awkwardly as their tongues dance the limbo and he forgets what happens next because her teeth find his lower lip and she knows she's driving him crazy. His fingers bury in her head, the tips burning her scalp but she doesn't care. She'd walk through fire for this exact moment (and more.)

The kiss lingers and the longer it goes on, the harder it's going to be to come back. But she knew that from the start and he, well, he has no real choice in the matter (and she knew that too.) A hand leaves her head and his fingers now run up and down her bare arm, his fingers nails scratching in the most tantalising fashion. And he doesn't even really know he's doing it. She shuts her eyes and he shuts his and it's bliss. Pure bliss.

"Amelia Pond. You-"

"Rory's asleep," she places a finger on his lips and he quietens down. He doesn't want Rory to hear anyway. She removes her finger but her eyes remain bright and glinting, because she knows where this is going.

"That wasn't fair, Amy, what you did earlier."

"I don't know what you mean, Doctor." She feigns knowledge purely because she likes making him uncomfortable because down to him, she now feels uncomfortable when she's with Rory.

"You know full well I was-"

"Gagging for it?" She's not being helpful but she can't suppress a laugh.

"No-- I was, I was under the influence," he's half right. Only it wasn't alcohol. "You knew the medicine that woman-"

"Lobster."

"Woman-lobster gave me would have _those_ side effects. You.. you predator." It's a lame attack and she ignores it.

"Oh come on, Doctor, grow a backbone. It was just a bit of fun!" The way she whispers even sounds like she's trying to seduce him. "Have the effects worn off yet?"

"Yes," he answers, a little too fast and she knows he's lying. She smirks and places a hand on his chest and a kiss on his lips.

"Night, Doctor." And with that she leaves him, pocketing the vial of medicine as she passes his jacket. She was going to be in charge of _this_ relationship.


End file.
